


Flight Deck Destiny

by FadedSepia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, M/M, Movie Dialogue, Referenced James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Scene Rewrite, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27306634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FadedSepia/pseuds/FadedSepia
Summary: Two of the most capable, unstable people on this little team might already be closer than anyone would like to consider. Love is for children, but this? This is forever.Natasha’s learned to recognize when people share that sort of connection, can still remember the vice that tightened in her chest when she met her soulmate that first time. In a perfect world, Natasha could give them time to themselves, but nothing here is perfect; only urgent and clandestine.Is meeting your soulmate as overwhelmingly awkward from the outside?A soulmate story from three perspectives.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Steve Rogers
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a re-write using the dialogue from _The Avengers._
> 
> Although I did start working on it based on a remix soulmates fic I wrote earlier this year, the two aren’t actually connected. 
> 
> This story is wholly un-beta’d; I was just determined to get something up this month!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She almost misses Bruce’s widening eyes and Steve’s sharp inhale. _Almost._ But this is something Natasha’s seen; something she’s _experienced._ It’s hardly the best time for this to happen, but that’s par for the course.

Phil Coulson steps from the quinjet, face dropping from animated into quietly taciturn as he nods to her. “Agent Romanov, this is Captain Rogers.”

“Hi.” She’ll be his minder for the foreseeable future, so Natasha has plenty of time to focus on Steve Rogers; for now, delivering her message takes precedence. “They need you on the bridge, they’re starting the face trace.”

“See you there.” One thing she has to love about Coulson is his ability to go right from genial to all business and back again; though, by the looks of it, that’s thrown Captain Rogers for a loop.

“It was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice. I thought Coulson was gonna swoon.” She’s still not certain that – when this is all over – Phil won’t go right back to being unreasonably giddy over the entire situation. Natasha has to ask, in the brief moments before she manages to spot her other charge on the deck. “Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards, yet?”

“Trading cards?” asks the flustered man at her side.

“They’re vintage. He’s very proud.” Natasha can already admit to a begrudging fondness for Steve Rogers; he’s cute, almost puppy-like.

Captain Roger’s nipping at her heels isn’t helping the analogy, and neither is the distractability that has him trailing off mid conversation, following her line of sight before he shouts, “Dr. Banner!!”

 _Damn!_ That volume of Steve’s might have come in handy during a blitz, but the bombs aren’t dropping – not yet – and Natasha already has enough concerns about potential work-related hearing loss. If there is a next mission in their future, Hawkeye is sitting on Captain Rogers, and _she’s_ chasing after the alien with the magic box.

There was a time she _might_ have marked that sentence as an indicator of madness, but now Natasha knows better. Just like she knows that she should count herself lucky to only be managing Captain Rogers and, now that he’s dodging his way closer, Dr. Banner again. _Anything_ is better than going in for another round of Stark-sitting duty.

“Oh, yeah, hi.” Dr. Banner has seven PhDs that pair nicely with the social skills of an abandoned toddler. Still, something about him has managed to capture the Captain’s attention as Bruce keeps speaking. “They told me you’d be coming.”

Neither seems to recognize that Natasha is standing _right there,_ watching one of the most awkward handshakes she’s ever been forced to witness; it’s so bad she almost misses Bruce’s widening eyes and Steve’s sharp inhale. _Almost._ But this is something Natasha’s seen; something she’s _experienced._ It’s hardly the best time for this to happen, but that’s par for the course.

“Word is you can find the cube.” Steve shifts his weight, fidgeting like someone uncomfortable in his own skin.

Across from him, Bruce is nervously chewing at his lip. “Is that the only word on me?”

“Only word I care about.”

Natasha has to turn, to look away and stop herself from outwardly chuckling. _That line_ delivered by _that man;_ it’s just too much. She coughs as discreetly as she’s able, hand lifted to her ear as if she’s listening to the comms.

Dr. Banner turns away, but she can still make out his words as he and Steve drift closer to the end of the deck. “Must be strange for you, all of this.”

“Well…” Captain Rogers shrugs, hands sliding into his pockets as the two men keep walking. “This is actually kind of familiar.”

In a perfect world, Natasha could give them time to themselves, but nothing here is perfect; only urgent and clandestine. She hurries to catch up with them, interrupting their endearingly awkward conversation as casually as she can. Natasha can’t roll her eyes, so she squeezes her wrist in her hand. “Gentleman, you might want to step inside in a minute. It’s gonna get a little hard to breathe.”

She’s not just referring to the impending lack of atmosphere once they ascend, either. Between her childhood training and working for SHIELD, Natasha’s learned to recognize when people share _that sort_ of connection, and she’s memorized the files for both of these two; Bruce Banner and Steve Rogers hadn’t ever met before today. The last thing she needs is either of them getting overwhelmed and falling off the edge and into one of the engines. Natasha can still remember the vice that tightened in her chest when she met her soulmate in Odessa that first time; she’d been out of breath even _before_ he chased her down and shot through her.

Despite her requests, and the blare of the speakers – _“Clear the deck!” –_ both men are already at the edge, leaning over to stare down past the safety netting. Steve’s shouted query carries over the roaring engines – "Is this a submarine?" – and this time Natasha fails to stifle a giggle that some might call cruel. She honestly isn’t – not really – she’s only curious about how the man who _died_ in a plane crash will handle being on a surprise plane. _A valid consideration._

“Really?” Bruce Banner’s words coincide with the slump of his shoulders. “They want _me_ in a submerged, pressurized, metal container?”

The truth is, at least where anyone not on this hellicarier is concerned, they’d rather Dr. Banner be in that giant circular tank, and Captain Rogers back on ice. Fury might have convinced them to let him try something this crazy, but the council still has doubts about his little _initiative._ She and Hawkeye were the first recruits, and her partner’s sudden absence is doing nothing to assuage their concerns.

Nor will the knowledge that two of the most capable, unstable people on this little team might already be closer than anyone would like to consider. Love is for children, but this? This is for _ever._ The least she can give them is a few moments alone before all their attention is taken by this mission.

Natasha turns away, heading for the command center.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce hopes that spark of recognition he just felt isn’t the same _spark_ people talk about feeling when… Better that he not dwell on it. Hasn’t happened, yet; won’t ever, unless his soulmate is the unluckiest bastard on the planet.

“Dr. Banner!”

_Shit!_ Bruce’s shoulders tense before he can stop them, first from those two _stupid_ words, then because he recognizes the voice and realizes _whom_ it is that’s seeing him embarrass himself. Maybe one of these jets will overshoot and fatally crush him and- No, that would only bring out the _other_ guy, and he’s already flustered enough. He takes a deep breath – quick in and out – and straightens up. It’s not Steve Rogers’ fault that Bruce’s soul mark is just his own damn name and title, and not something the other man, or anyone, ever needs to know; no matter that it might be lonely, Bruce hopes that spark of recognition he just felt isn’t the same _spark_ people talk about feeling when… Better that he not dwell on it. Hasn’t happened, yet; won’t ever, unless his soulmate is the unluckiest bastard on the planet.

Bruce turns, already off-kilter again as he tries to weave around the people rushing across the flight deck, dodging crew members, reaching automatically for Steve’s hand. Introductions are one thing he’s still got a handle on. “Oh, yeah, hi.”

It’s not his best start, but it’s all Bruce can manage before he’s grasping Steve’s hand, grip firm and warm. _Burning._ Like static skittering across his palm. It _is_ a spark, and Bruce _is_ screwed, and – _damnit_ – this _is Captain America,_ who definitely doesn’t deserve any of what Bruce is bringing; even after so many years of being – well – _dead,_ Bruce is pretty sure being stuck with him would have to be worse. 

As he’s rambling internally, Bruce is still running his mouth, “They told me you’d be coming,” and he isn’t sure which _they_ he means – the SHIELD agents or those people that ridiculously told him even _he’d_ find _someone_ – but it doesn’t matter in this moment because maybe he’s wrong, only…

Only Steve’s eyes widen, both of them looking down at their clasped hands; then Steve Rogers smiles, genuine and bright for just a moment before he slides into the grin Bruce recognizes from those old posters.

Steve tips his head back toward Agent Romanov standing behind him, and Bruce nods; knows, _somehow,_ that they’ll talk about this later.

“Word is you can find the cube?”

Bruce Banner isn’t a spy or a soldier, and he’s only good with spoken words when they come out in the form of a lecture. He can’t fathom how Steve can slip so seamlessly back to business after what just _happened,_ but he makes an effort. “Is that the only word on me?”

Steve smiles again, his answer making Bruce’s legs go to jelly. “Only word I care about.”

_Oh, no._ Pulse in his throat, Bruce tries to dredge up something innocuous, gesturing to the bustle around them – “Must be strange for you, all of this.” – but it’s too close to the truth; that this _is terrifyingly strange,_ at least for him.

Maybe a bit embarrassing for Steve, too, judging by the colour high on his cheeks as he turns away and nods at the drill team jogging by. “Well… This is actually kind of familiar.”

“Gentleman, you might want to step inside in a minute,” Agent Romanov interrupts the moment, and Bruce would hug her if he wasn’t rooted where he’s standing. Wrist clasped in hand, she nods to each of them in turn. "It’s gonna get a little hard to breathe."

The loud clang and blared warning – _"Secure the deck."_ – startle him further, but curiosity overwhelms the terror clenching his heart like a vice, prodding Bruce to wonder what’s got everyone in a scramble.

“Is this a submarine?” Steve sounds so young beside him.

Bruce shoves his hands into his pockets, clenching them out of sight. All of the last two minutes still have his heart hammering in his chest, and now _this_ is happening? “Really? They want _me_ in a submerged, pressurized, metal container?”

If that _is_ the plan, he doesn’t have much of a choice; Bruce is all too aware that his continued cooperation is all that’s keeping him out of some sort of cell or lab. He walks as close to the edge as he dares, and Bruce can swear he’s looking down at a massive jet engine.

Steve comes up alongside him, voice just audible over the roaring water. “I didn’t expect… We’ll talk later?”

“Yeah…” Bruce is still struggling to wrap his mind around there even _being_ a _we,_ let alone that _we_ including Steve _Captain America_ Rogers. He bobs his head, but his eyes are still on the spinning rotors; they’re massive, churning the water to a roiling froth, spinning the wrong way for-

The flight deck jolts beneath them, and Bruce throws his hands out for balance and steps back, realizing they’re rising just as Steve shouts over to him.

“Are we going _up?!”_

They are. Bruce is going to be trapped with the soulmate he just met in a _flying,_ pressurized, metal container. He’d probably laugh if he wasn’t fighting the urge to scream and jump over the edge. “Oh, no; this is _much_ worse.”

Steve’s hand settles on his shoulder, tugging him back from the side, meeting Bruce’s startlement with a nervous smile. “We probably should get going.”

Agent Romanov hasn’t bothered waiting for them, she’s already stalking her way toward a set of doors, leaving them jogging to catch up with her.

Bruce squints as they step from the blinding sunlight of the deck into the dimly lit hallway, walking forward only because Steve reaches for him again, tugging at his cuff. He wishes he was braver – or only just the barest touch less of an awkward fuck – but he isn’t, and Steve lets go before Bruce has a chance to do anything about it.

Instead, Bruce steps to his left, hands sliding into his pockets. He looks sideways, just barely managing to catch the soft smile Steve offers, before Agent Romanov walks them through the wide arched doorway and into the command centre.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve balks internally at how stupid he sounds, feeling himself slide into his roadshow smile. Of all the idiot things to say to a man he’s been waiting a _literal lifetime_ to meet.

Steve might not know what to make of Agent Romanov, but _anything_ is better than flying; he feels far more comfortable on a ship.

The same can’t be said for the man currently looking lost and flustered across from them.

“Dr. Banner!” Steve lifts a hand, waving and trying to look as friendly as he can. Volume is something he’s had trouble with since the rebirth procedure, and – if the doctor’s startled jump is anything to judge by – he was louder than he’d thought.

Bruce Banner turns, picking his way through the bustle on the deck, nimble and nervous, hand extended by the time he reaches the two of them. “Oh, yeah, hi.” Steve’s lucky his hand is held out and ready because his brain sure as shit isn’t, the last vestiges of his sense draining away as the doctor’s fingers brush his palm. The touch of Bruce’s hand against his own sends needles pricking all the way up to Steve’s wrist, even as Bruce keeps speaking. “They told me you’d be coming.”

They’d told _him,_ too; his ma and Bucky, even Peg, but he hadn’t believed this was possible, not for him, not once Steve woke up and realized where and _when_ he was. Of course, Bruce wasn’t talking about that – couldn’t have been talking about them, since there wasn’t a _them_ before the last few seconds – and Steve needs to get his shit together; to keep the conversation professional and not focus on the endearing way his soulmate – _Fuck, really?_ – is biting the edge of his lip.

“Word is you can find the cube.” Steve balks internally at how stupid he sounds, feeling himself slide into his roadshow smile. Of all the idiot things to say to a man he’s been waiting a _literal lifetime_ to meet. Though, with Agent Romanov at his back, maybe Steve should just count himself lucky neither he nor Bruce have really shown their hands about this.

Bruce steps to the side, tipping sweet brown eyes up at Steve to ask, “Is that the only word on me?”

 _Hardly._ Steve’s done a lot of catching up since he got to here and now, but he’s barely scratched the surface with any of the people he’s supposed to meet today, soulmate included. What he knows already leaves him a tiny bit awestruck because – _word is_ – Bruce Banner is a _lot;_ a genius scientist with as many degrees as there are days of the week; a man SHIELD only managed to catch because he was such rebellious humanitarian; a soft-spoken if snappish sort of guy, with a dry sense of humour and perpetual bed head, whose very nice handwriting is looping those nine fateful words across Steve’s ribs, which really are the, “Only word I care about.”

 _Swing and a miss, Rogers,_ and they might share some fated connection, but that doesn’t mean Steve isn’t going to fuck it all to hell, isn’t watching Bruce turn away to tip his chin at the unit jogging by.

“Must be strange for you, all of this.”

 _Not at all._ Yeah, it’s a new century, everyone he knows is dead, and he’s just met the man of his pathetic, decades old dreams, but – on the whole – not too much has changed. Steve’s working for a secret government alphabet branch, surrounded by agents and soldiers in the middle of a training camp, standing beside a woman who is always the most dangerous person in the room; he’s managed to put his foot in his mouth and is vainly hoping that he can grit his way through this fucking social disaster and make it to the other side without too much embarrassment. On the whole, “Well… This is actually kind of familiar.”

“Gentleman, you might want to step inside in a minute,” Agent Romanov interrupts the moment, and Steve would slug her if he wasn’t convinced she’d kick his ass, feed it to him, and throw him overboard. She nods to each of them in turn, wrist clasped in hand. “It’s gonna get a little hard to breathe.”

 _Oh, fuck, what now?_ Another squad jogs past them as the loudspeaker drones out, _“Clear the deck!”_ and in that moment Steve’s right there again in forty-two – marveling and terrified that they’re going _under_ once the hatch closes – mind boggling because of the sheer size of this thing, but still wondering, “Is this a submarine?!”

For all that Steve is caught between awe and shock, Dr. Banner seems nearly unfazed. He walks closer to the edge, hands in his pockets, his answering question spoken with perturbed curiosity. “Really? They want _me_ in a submerged, pressurized, metal container?”

Steve hurries to catch up to him, standing as close as he reasonably can. “I didn’t expect…” _to live long enough to meet you._ It’s the truth, but a heavy one, better saved for another time; they can talk once Steve can stop acting like an idiot and manage to carry on a half-decent conversation. “We’ll talk later?”

“Yeah…” Bruce Banner catches himself as the entire deck tilts, but Steve comes dangerously close to grabbing hold of him.

 _Bad idea,_ since he knows full well he wouldn’t be letting his soulmate loose any time soon if he did. Steve eyes the horizon, wondering aloud as the arc of the sky shifts. “Are we going up?”

“Oh, no; this is _much_ worse.”

He sounds so dejected that Steve can’t stop himself; resting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, he nods back to Agent Romanov, already strutting away. “We probably should get going.”

Steve gets a hesitant nod in reply, and his gut does a fluttering twist when they fall into nearly matched step hurrying toward a wide set of doors. It would be easy to take hold of Bruce’s hand in the darkened hall, but Steve doesn’t want to spook Bruce further. Still, he can’t help the soppy grin stretching his face, nor stop from turning to catch his soulmate’s eye before they reach the command centre.


End file.
